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Click hereEyelight stings my dreams.
I shake the sleep off my hands,
attempt to start a new life.
A new what.
Butt the cigarette
tells dirty jokes.
In the middle of a word a fly
drives me home.
Home looks unfamiliar.
I greet it like an old friend.
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 40,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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Who said you can't catch a flow? If any one can Bill Dada is the one. I actually did not find the content obscure. perhaps hard to catch in words but not obscure. It reminded me of past times when I was transitioning between work at night shift and home. The flow of thoughts at that stage seemed to be somewhat less defined compared to other times...not unlike in this poem.
come up with the coolest thoughts! LOL
;)
obscure but poignant!
kisses,
T